Rage
by keylee
Summary: After the war, Azula somehow ends up on Shutter Island. Will she escape?


The white-clothed guards stared into the cell of their newest inmate. She was just a girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, and yet somehow, she had managed to end up on Shutter Island. Due to her young age, the warden had ordered her to be placed in the Women's Ward, but something about this mysterious girl bothered the guards and nurses. All of them believed that this girl belonged in Ward C for the time being, given her unknown history. But the warden, after inquiring with Dr. Cawley, simply forbade it.

The girl was sent to the island after escaping two hospitals on the mainland. She hadn't proven to be criminally insane, but there had been diagnoses of sociopathic tendencies by several psychiatrists, and the girl boasted of terrible deeds. Whether these tales were true or not were up to interpretation, but for the safety of the everyday citizens around her, she was relocated to a more secure location.

Her records referred to her as "Mary Smith," however; the nurses all referred to her by the girl's chose name, Azula. Actually, she called herself "Princess Azula." She treated her helpers like servants, and they went along with her fantasy, saying things such as "Whatever you wish for, Your Highness," and "Princess, you should eat the food, we provide nothing but the best for our royalty." Azula fed right into their constant adoration.

She was actually a nice girl, for the most part. But the lack of patient history in their records bothered the nurses. Why did this girl constantly refer to outlandish places such as the "Fire Nation" and "Water Tribes" and "Earth Kingdom"? None of these places existed, and yet, whenever she was asked about her previous whereabouts, she would reply with "Fire Nation" every single time. The psychiatrists said this could be a possible link to either a distant memory of a childhood accident with fire, or even traces of pyromania. She had no concept of places such as the "United States" and "Massachusetts" and "Boston."

During group and individual therapy sessions, Azula would talk about places such as "Ba Sing Se" and "Ember Island," leading everyone to assume that perhaps this girl was from China or an island down south in the Pacific. The nurses would prod her gently for more information on these places, hoping to spike some memory of a real place that actually existed, but Azula would only delve further into her fantasies, telling them grand stories of how she conquered the great city of Ba Sing Se, that "her people" almost destroyed the North Pole, and how she killed "the Avatar."

That was a word that came up a lot during therapy: "Avatar." Oh, and "Fire Lord." Azula was _always_ going off about how she was going to be the next "Fire Lord." She used this title to threaten nurses, telling them that if they didn't do what she told them to, she would "show no mercy" once she was "Fire Lord." Dr. Cawley said it was possibly linked to that assumed childhood memory of the fire. "Mary Smith" was supposedly trapped in a burning building when she was young, and this "Fire Lord" figure could possibly be the arsonist who started it. That's what the records said, anyway.

Another questionable subject was this "Zuko" figure. Azula claimed that this was her brother and she never relented on telling the nurses how much she despised this boy. Private investigators had been hired to look for this "Zuko" person in the past, in an effort to find some person familiar with Azula, but these efforts were futile. They were then forced to conclude that "Zuko" was either a well-developed hallucination or someone who was already dead, going by the predictions of the psychiatrists. Azula, whenever she was asked about Zuko's whereabouts, would reply, "He's back in the Fire Nation." These comments led the nurses to believe that perhaps "Zuko" really was Azula's brother, but he had died in a fire when Azula was younger.

One of the strangest concepts that Azula presumably thought up herself was "bending." She told all of her nurses that she was a master "firebender" and when her bending returned, she would burn Shutter Island to the ground. Nobody really knew what to make of this. Azula was highly knowledgeable on the subject, one in which she had made up entirely by herself. From what they heard from Azula, apparently "firebenders" could shoot fire from their fingertips. It was a disturbing concept, and Azula's obsession with fire was one of the worst cases of pyromania Shutter Island had ever seen.

During storms, everyone on the compound could hear Azula's shrill shrieks of joy at the sight of lightning striking all around her. It excited her and it was during these storms that she made most of her escape attempts. She delighted in seeing lightning strike down trees and she sat, mesmerized, as the trees exploded in flames.

"I can do that," she would hiss at her nurses as they put her in the straightjacket and dragged her underground, away from lightning and the fires it caused after striking.

"I'm sure you can, Azula," the nurses would reply wearily as they placed her in a high-security cell for the night.

Azula laughed shrilly as they departed. As soon as they were gone, she got down to business: getting herself out of this straightjacket. She had done it before on numerous occasions; there wasn't anything in the world that could contain her. Within minutes, she was free to move about her cell in whichever way she pleased.

There was a tiny crack in the stone wall at the top of her cell, right where the ground up above began. Smiling to herself, Azula began clawing at the stones, ripping through the unsteady foundation one by one until she had created a small opening. Her hands were covered in blood from ripping the stones out, but she barely noticed. She stuck her hand through the hole and felt around. She felt grass. It was wet, and her hand was being pelted by several raindrops. She was so close to freedom.

She had been outside before, of course. But never unsupervised. Never during a _lightning_ storm.

She clawed more at the jagged rocks, refusing to give up. Those pesky servants would be back soon and tuck her in that warm, unusually tight blanket again. Azula did not like the blanket.

Her hands were literally pouring blood onto the ground in her cell, but the weak foundation was giving away every second. A little bit of pain was worth the freedom waiting for her on the other side.

Finally, the hole was big enough for her to squeeze through. She climbed through and ran as hard as she could, into the main courtyard. She stopped and stood for a moment, letting the rain pelt her in a steady assurance that she was indeed, free. The electricity generated by the lightning was flowing all around her; it had been a long time since she had felt something like this. The last time she had been this close to lightning, she had nearly killed her brother with it. The familiar feeling brought about a manic joy within Azula. She screeched her joy into the dark night, holding out her arms and dancing victoriously.

In the distance, she could see several guards running at her, ready to capture her and take her back to her imprisonment. Instinctively, Azula ran. She darted over fallen trees, nearly slipped on the rain-soaked grass, and continued running full-speed even when her bare feet hit the gravel road.

Then, something happened. A perfectly-aimed bolt of lightning struck her mid-stride. Azula's eyes widened to disproportionate sizes as the energy traveled through her body, awakening something that had been dormant for a long time.

She crashed and fell to the ground once the electrifying charge finished passing throughout her body. She was barely conscious and unable to comprehend what had just happened. Lightning, her friend, had struck her. It had harmed her…or had it? Something was different. She didn't feel right; she wasn't sure if it was for better or for worse, but something had definitely changed within her.

The guards easily caught up with her and approached her cautiously.

"Call a medic!" she heard one man cry out over the loud booms of thunder. None of them would touch her, which was fine with her. She didn't want them to know she was secretly conscious.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled, feeling the energy of the storm all around her. She breathed in again and exhaled through her nostrils.

A light wisp of smoke escaped.

Azula sighed softly.

Her firebending had returned.

Finally, ten minutes later, a team of medics had reached her falling point and they were preparing to take her away on a stretcher. Her hands were still bleeding, as were her feet. But none of that mattered to Azula.

As one medic laid a single hand on her shoulder to turn her over onto her back, Azula grinned cruelly. She allowed him to slowly and carefully turn her over, and she quickly shut her eyes before they could get a good look at her.

"She's still alive," the man said, scratching his head. "Completely unaffected."

_Hardly,_ Azula thought maliciously. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open and she bolted to her feet, unleashing a vibrant blue flame from the tip of her foot.

The men screamed and scattered, and the nurses who were previously running towards the scene were now running away.

This wasn't possible. Azula's "firebending." No, it couldn't possibly be real. Perhaps they were all going mad…

One man tried running up to Azula to stop her, but she easily took him down without firebending at all. Breaking through the chaotic crowd, Azula began running again, setting fire to everything in sight. Knowing that she was the only bender here, she wanted to inspire as much fear in her subjects as possible. Fear would help her escape. Fear had always worked and it wasn't going to fail her now…

The alarms rang out over the compound as Azula released more explosive blue flames, directing her firepower at trees, bushes, buildings…anything that would catch fire.

It was a beautiful feeling, being able to firebend after months of dormancy. She loved hearing the panicked screams of her fellow patients, the desperate pleas for back up amongst the nurses and guards, and the roar of thunder all around her. It was exhilarating.

She ran all the way to the psychiatrists' mansion. She waited outside the door with a blue flame ready at her fingertips. She was done talking. She was going to be freed; if she had to kill the top guns here, then so be it. Firepower was on her side now, and nothing would stop her from escaping Shutter Island and getting back to the Fire Nation…

She walked calmly inside, noting the expensive portraits and oil paintings that adorned the walls, making this place remarkably similar to the Fire Nation Royal Palace. She crept down the abandoned hallways, leaving behind a trail of blood as she went. She still hadn't noticed her injuries.

She finally made it down a dimly-lit corridor, to where the final door of the building lay. He was in there, she could sense him. She snuffed out her flame and opened the door.

Sure enough, he was there, reading a book and drinking some whiskey on the couch at the far end of the room. Azula waltzed her way down to him, completely unfazed by the gun sitting on the small table next to him.

He was terribly startled when she sat on the table next to him, but he immediately regained his composure, despite taking in her awful appearance.

He nervously licked his lips and set the book down, wondering what in the world _she _was doing here. He tried to speak, but the air had gone cold around him. Something just wasn't right.

Azula smiled, her golden eyes flashing dangerously. She ignited a blue ball of fire in her hands.

"Hello, Doctor."


End file.
